My Undying Love
by Invaluable
Summary: All her life Pansy Parkinson has loved Draco Malfoy. Although he has never expressed romantic interest in her, she has never given up hope that he will one day return her affections. What will happen when Draco starts dating Harry Potter?


Title: My Undying Love  
  
Warning: R for Language  
  
Summary: Pansy loves Draco, but he is dating Harry. No one knows why Pansy has 'let herself go' at such a young age.  
  
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended (Yes, I did take that from Fiction Alley, but I think it's a very complete disclaimer.)  
  
A/N: This fic is COMPLETE, I am doing it chaptered (though it was meant to be a one-shot) so it will be either very short or normal sized with ridiculously long chapters. The story is written in longhand (the reason why it's chaptered) so I have NO IDEA how long it will be once it is typed. Probably horribly short. In which case, it will probably make so sense to you why I'm making this chaptered. Anyhow, I'm only offering this as a way of explanation so that you won't be so confused by length or format of anything. I hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it! (and I did...very much!)  
  
Ch1: Falling in Hell  
  
I suppose, of everything that happened, one of the things I was most grateful for was Draco's truthfulness. The first utterly shocking truth was when he told me, with an excited twinkle in his eyes, that he had snogged Potter. As soon as the words had left his lips my world shattered. During this story my world shattered many times, but this was the first.  
  
"You're kidding, right?" Draco grinned. _Draco is grinning_?  
  
"No, I'm not. We snogged for about an hour and then he said-" I

shook my head.  
  
"No way! No, no, no..." I couldn't believe it. I did believe that Potter liked Draco...but I couldn't believe I had lost Draco to..._him_.  
  
"Yes, Pansy." I hid my hurt and said quickly, "Wow, I never would have thought that the boy had a thing for you." I smirked at him.  
  
"I know! Isn't it wonderful?" Draco was horribly eager and happy. I had never seen him like that before, and, in a way, it scared me. It scared me because that happiness was how I knew that Draco, my beloved Draco, would never be mine. I could never make him grin, or his eyes twinkle, the way Potter did. I would never be able to erase the pain and suffering Draco had suffered for seventeen years with one kiss. It would never be me and it would always be Potter.   
  
It all came back to Potter.  
  
"I'm glad for you," I told him, and in reality, I was. I wanted him to be happy, even if it tore me up inside, even if it meant my heart felt as though it was being dipped in a vat of acid. He told me every detail about how he and Potter got together and I listened. After all, that's what best friends are for.

One day Draco told me that he wanted Potter and I to become friends, or, at least, to manage civil conversation. He said he wanted his boyfriend and his best friend to be able to talk without insulting each other and resorting to hexes. I almost let my secret out when I said, "but, dear, the only thing we have in common is you." He didn't get it though. He whined and whined until I was forced to agree to his idea. Though, personally, I thought it would never work. Potter and I?Speak without insults? It couldn't be, never in a million years. It went as these things do. One expects to have a certain reliability in life, but life is anything but reliable. Potter and I became friends almost instantly. We discovered that we both loved the strategies of Wizard's Chess, though he admitted to being absolute rubbish at the game. We even played once. He wasn't so bad.  
  
Draco did not participate in the conversation that evening, and for a few moments, I forgot about the constant aching that ran through my bones. It came back, though; when Draco took Potter's hand in his own and kissed his cheek. In order to control the roaring jealousy that was telling me to curse Potter into a million pieces, I asked, "So what is this place, anyway? I've passed this corridor loads of times but this door has never been here."  
  
"No," he answered. "It's only here when you _need_ something. It's called the Room of Requirement, and the way it works is that you walk in front of it three times, concentrating on whatever it is you need. Then, the door appears and the room is filled with all sorts of things to help you get what you need."  
  
"Fascinating," I said simply.  
  
A while later, I said my excuses and stood to leave. Before I reached the door, Draco hugged me tightly and whispered "I really appreciate it." I smiled, nodded, and left.  
  
Once in the comfort and sanctity of my bed, I cried truly for the second time in my life. I cried for all my losses. I cried because deep down inside, I knew that Draco Malfoy was destined to be with Harry Potter.

After that meeting, I went through a period of self-loathing. I couldn't hate Potter. We were friends, and he was kind to me. I couldn't hate Draco because I loved him too much. I opted for hating myself, for not being good enough to reach Draco's standard. I cut myself often and deeply, unleashing my anger on myself. The worst times were Tuesday nights. It was every Tuesday that I met Draco and Harry in the Room of Requirement after classes to chat about useless things. Those meetings were Draco's attempts to get me closer to Harry. He was absolutely exultant that Harry and I got along well.  
  
My appearance changed as well. I stopped caring for my hair, keeping it tied in a knot most days. My nails were always chipped. Not even a ghost of my well-manicured hands remained. Because I had stopped treating my skin, I often had spots and breakouts. I never bothered to straighten my robes, leaving them wrinkled, and if it hadn't been for the house elves, they wouldn't even be clean. I experimented with drugs, Wizard potions and muggle things alike. I tried Margi Uana, or whatever it's called, which is some type of muggle drug that the boy who sold it to me said would help me relieve stress. Needless to say, it didn't work. The only stress reliever I had was the slicing open of my skin.  
  
It wasn't long before even Draco, who had not been able to see anything past his own happiness at finally trapping Harry Potter, began to notice the cuts on my arms and my horrid appearance. After one particularly difficult Transfiguration lesson, he pulled me into an empty classroom and said, "What's going on, Pansy?" I flashed him a forced smile.  
  
"Nothing, dear. Why do you ask?"  
  
"Come on, Pansy. Have you even looked in a mirror? Don't lie to me. You're good but not that good. You look like you've been to hell and back. Your grades have dropped considerably, and I even saw you smoking some type of muggle drug the other day!"  
  
"I just need to take off some stress. The N.E.W.T.'s are starting to get to me is all," I explained.  
  
"Don't give me that! I mean, sure, you're no Hermione but you've always done well in class."  
  
"Hermione is she now?" My anger began to rise. How could he not see that it was all for him? "Dating Potter is one thing, but getting cozy with mudbloods is another."  
  
"Don't call her that," he said angrily. "She is a good, intelligent, brave, loyal-"  
  
"Oh, please! You're starting to sound like Weasley, letting your emotions show publicly. It's as though I don't even know you anymore."  
  
"Stop it. I know what you're trying to do." He spoke calmly, almost sweetly. I wanted to take him into my arms and kiss him, but I knew that that would repulse him.  
  
"Oh, you do? Please, enlighten me because I have no idea."   
  
"You're trying to make this conversation about me, but we're supposed to be talking about your health. I just want to help you."  
  
"Oh Draco," I said as my anger melted away. "Don't you see? It's all about you. I-I just don't want to lose you." To my great surprise, he gathered me in his arms and whispered, "shut up Parkinson; I will always love you." I wanted him to kiss me and tell me that he loved me in _that_ way, but his next words were like daggers to my already fragile heart.  
  
"You are, and forever will be, my best friend."


End file.
